


Lose Some, Win Some

by FuturePSotUS



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 08:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuturePSotUS/pseuds/FuturePSotUS
Summary: Jack plays for Samwell. Bitty plays for Yale. Jack hates Bitty when they first meet on the ice. Hate fades to admiration as he watches Bitty's skill. Admiration turns to friendship once Shitty exchanges numbers for them. Friendship grows into a relationship over a pile of boxes and Ikea furniture.





	Lose Some, Win Some

Jack made tight loops on the ice next to the face off circle as he waited for Yale to get its shit together. As his opponent finally joined him, Jack got into position; legs spread, back straight, and stick poised to strike. If the brute across from him had had the courage to glance up he would have seen a look of intense, stormy concentration.

The puck fell and Jack's stick lashed out to grab at it. He swept it back and to the right only to have it poked away as soon Shitty's stick connected with it. A tiny flash of blond bangs under a Yale blue helmet streaked past Jack who whipped around to furiously try and catch up.

Futile. The mite scored and Jack didn't bother suppressing a loud and angry, "FUCK!"

For the rest of the game Jack didn’t feel as though he was playing against Yale’s team. It was him against a lone player, number 15. In the second period he finally caught the name on the back of the jersey, "BITTLE."

Who the fuck was this kid? He looked like a child. Jack had read about Little League teams that fudged paperwork so older players could join and dominate teams. Maybe this was some weird reversal of that tactic?

And why was he smiling? God, was he laughing on the bench? He was! He was laughing! In the middle of a hockey game! Maybe he had a concussion or something. Jack couldn't think of anything except brain damage that would make someone want to laugh between shifts.

Leaving the ice at the end of the second period he decided the most frustrating thing about #15 wasn't how he easily kept pace with Jack or repeatedly managed to intercept Samwell's passes. It was how attractive he looked as he did those things.

When the final buzzer signified Samwell’s loss frustration found itself upgraded to hatred.

In the intervening weeks Jack convinced himself it was all a fluke; #15 must have had an amazing game. Jack had always found competence attractive. His rationalizations died a quick death the next time Samwell faced Yale. Bittle skated literal circles around Ransom and Holster to bury a puck in the net less than a minute into the game.

"It's all good. Everything happens for a reason," said Johnson with his usual weirdness.

But this time Samwell won and Jack let Shitty convince him to extend an invite to any members of the other team who wanted to join them for their 'Super Swawesome Celly-bratory Kegster' that night.

At the party Jack awkwardly lingered behind Lardo as she dominated the pong table and  brushed off exclamations of surprise that he'd bothered to come downstairs at all. As he sipped at his lukewarm beer and surveyed the room he let himself acknowledge that he wasn't here for his team. He wanted to see if anyone from Yale actually took them up on their invitation to attend. Specifically, Jack wanted to know if Bittle would come.

And around eleven he did.

He danced to the beat of Holster's playlist as he made his rounds, saying hi to players he recognized and easily making new friends. Jack tracked his progress without leaving Lardo's side, glad he was tall enough to see over the crowd. As Bittle got closer though he also got harder to see. While Jack worried that he might have to search him out an impertinent hand tapped his elbow.

"Hiya."

Jack started and sloshed beer over his arm as he turned.

"Oh! Er... hello?" he fumbled.

"You're #1, right? Samwell's center?"

"Er... yeah?"

"You don't sound so sure 'bout that, sugar."

"Yeah. No. Euh, I mean, that's me."

"I'm Eric," he said, trying to lead Jack into a conversation.

"Hi," Jack said dumbly, "Nice to meet you. You're Bittle. #15."

"Yep! That's me! Let me guess, you noticed because I'm so small, right? They call me Bitty."

Jack blinked and didn't reply. He hadn't imagined that Bittle might have an accent as cute as his face and the discovery had thrown him. The longer he went without replying the more awkward he felt and the harder he fumbled to think of something to say.

Shitty slid into his other elbow and offered him a very wet and bristly kiss.

"Jackabelle!!!"

"Euh. Hi, Shits."

"Who's your new friend?!"

"...."

Bitty stepped in smoothly, leaning around Jack to stick out a hand, "Eric Bittle, I go to Yale. I hope y'all were serious when you invited us out because I have no idea where Beefy, our D-man that came with me, ran off to at this point."

"No way! Swawesome! You came! You're southern!"

Exuberantly, Shitty ignored Eric's hand and pulled him into a hug.

"Please'tuh'fuckin meet'cha, brah! Your goal in the first was so good if you were on my team I woulda creamed over it!"

"Oh!" Bitty's cheeks flared red and his eyes darted to Jack and back, "Well thanks."

"This guy here," Shitty poked Jack's side making him squirm and spill more of his beer on himself, "He loves a good goal. Doesn't even care who scored it. So..."

"Shitty..."

Crisse. This was why he didn't go to parties. Now Bittle probably thought he was a pervert hockey robot. And shit, he'd tuned out. Fuck what was Shitty going on about now?

"So Bob's holding like a whole bed up with one hand and it's like WOAH! How can you do still that!? The dude's still huge!"

"And... who's Bob again?"

Jack looked down at Bitty sharply ready to have to pretend to laugh at another lame joke about his father, but Bittle looked genuinely lost.

"He's my dad, he played in the NHL a while ago. He's still in decent shape though."

"Oh! Well isn't that great! It's a family tradition! You know Coach, that's my dad, he played football all the way through college. He never went pro or anything mind you, but he's a high school coach now and he woulda loved it if I'd followed his footsteps. So I'm sure your dad's proud as heck of you for making it to college! Hockey's a pretty good second best for Coach. It's unique back home that's for sure. Not that I need help in that department at all, but... he sure likes to remind people that I'm up north at an Ivy just because of my hockey. Because the Lord knows it wasn't my grades that got me this far. And well would you just look at me dominating this conversation. You were telling me a story about Jack's dad, Mister... what's your last name again, sweetpea? Z-something?"

As the blond stopped talking and took a healthy sip of his beer, Shitty looked half in love with Eric himself.

"Zimmermann," supplied Jack.

"Right! With a whole buncha extra n's!"

"Just the one, but euh, yeah."

With a speculative glance towards Jack first, Shitty asked, "So what besides hockey makes you stand out in Georgia? Other than not being a racist, intolerant, homophobic fuckhead?"

"Shitty!" Jack turned towards Eric to apologize, but Bittle was laughing.

"How do you know I'm not homophobic?"

"Well shit....are you?"

"Nope! I am gay though if maybe that was something you were assumin'."

"Great! Are you single?"

"I heard Samwell welcomed everyone," Bitty kept chirping, "But if I'd known they meant like this I woulda come to visit sooner."

Shitty took the teasing in stride, "I am tragically heterosexual, however I have several friends who are not and I would be more than happy to make some intros if that's something you were interested in?"

"Goodbye."

Jack abruptly left, unwilling to witness Shitty hook Bittle up with anyone that wasn't him. It didn't occur to him until he lay in bed unable to sleep hours later that Eric probably thought he'd left because he felt uncomfortable being around a gay man. He berated himself over it until he fell asleep.

Jack continued berating himself for his stupidity in his spare time for the rest of the week. On Friday, he distractedly texted 'hey' to an 'ERB'  instead of Lardo. In line at Annie's he stared at the unknown number trying to figure out how it had showed up in his contacts when a "..." told him ERB was replying.

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] omg i can't believe you texted!  I'm honored!

 

Shit. ERB knew him somehow. Jack tried to play it cool.

 

[SMS to ERB] Hey.

 

He failed.

 

[SMS to ERB] haha.

 

He failed so hard.

 

Who was this? Jack was so careful with giving out his number, having learned quickly while in the Q what happens when you give too much of yourself to others.

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] Honestly, I'm surprised that Shitty even told you that he swapped numbers for us. He was so sneaky, but he promised me you wouldn't be mad?

 

Shitty. Of course. But who would Shitty have wanted.... oh my god. It was Bittle. He had Bittle's number and he was texting with Bittle. This could be his only chance to apologize for his actions. While needed to have a talk with Shitty about boundaries, he wasn't going to pass this opportunity up either.

 

[SMS to ERB] No, not mad at all. Sorry about how I left that night.

[SMS to Jack Z.] Oh! Thank you. I was a little confused, but Shitty said that sometimes you're just like that?

[SMS to ERB] Yeah.

[SMS to ERB] I have anxiety and sometimes I act without thinking about it just to make myself feel better. But I was rude and that isn't an excuse.

[SMS to Jack Z.] I'm so sorry! I didn't know that! Thanks for telling me and you are totally forgiven. Honestly, it was a little Mr. Darcy like!

[SMS to ERB] Wasn't he a dick at the beginning of that book?

[SMS to Jack Z.] I don't even remember the beginning of it. *nervous sweating emoji*  *gif of Colin Firth emerging from the lake*

[SMS to ERB] Haha.

 

And like that they fell into a pattern of texting whenever one had a spare moment.

 

_/\\_

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] HAPPY MIDTERMS I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN A WEEK!!!! *three crazy-faced emoji*

[SMS to ERB] That's not very healthy. Please take a nap.

 

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Should I get salted or unsalted butter?

[SMS to Jack Z.] *thinking face emoji*

[SMS to Jack Z.] Depends on what you're making?

[SMS to Eric Bittle] I'm not making anything. But some of the guys are putting together a big team dinner.

[SMS to Jack Z.] Steak?

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Yeah, probably.

[SMS to Jack Z.] Salted!

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Thanks.

[SMS to Jack Z.] *woman dancing in red emoji*

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] Do you have any advice for how I can improve my ability to dodge checks?

[SMS to Eric Bittle] You're already better at that than most players?

[SMS to Jack Z.] I want to get better at it.

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Everything ok?

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Bittle?

[SMS to Eric Bittle] I'll text my dad and ask him.

[SMS to Jack Z.] Thanks.

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] *selfie of Bitty in oversized sunglasses and a backwards snapback*

[SMS to Jack Z.] *video of Bitty singing along to Drunk in Love*

[SMS to Jack Z.] *scream emoji**dancing boys emoji**peace sign emoji*

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Haha. Congrats on the win, Bittle. Drink more water.

 

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Good luck this weekend.

[SMS to Jack Z.] You too!  that we both make it to the next round! *fingers crossed emoji*

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] WE DID IT! yOU'RE Still on the ice BUT I HOPE YOU WiiN TOO!

 

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Haha. Yeah, we did. The guys are pretty happy. =)

[SMS to Jack Z.] OMG THAT WAS AN EMOJI! YOU'RE HAPPY TOO!!! *three mouthless emoji**three emoji with massive grins*

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Haha. Yeah. I'm happy. +)

[SMS to Eric Bittle] =) *

[SMS to Jack Z.] Never change, hun. *laughing while crying emoji*

 

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Hey. I saw the score of your game. I'm here if you want to talk. But no pressure if you don't. You guys played really well all season, you should be proud of how far you got. I haven't looked at highlights yet, but I'm sure you played really great like usual too.

[SMS to Jack Z.] Thank you. I'm not really up for talking, but I'll be cheering you on. I think I have a Bulldogs tee around here somewhere that's red. It's not the right shade, but it'll be close enough. Florida won't know what hit 'em.

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] My turn to send you an "I'm sorry but you did really well and you should be proud" text.

[SMS to Jack Z.] I watched the entire game and you guys looked so amazing. You were on target with your shots so often it's criminal how many of them got stopped. You deserved to win for sure and I'm so sorry you didn't. Let me know if you want to talk.

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] Haven't heard from you in a bit?

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] *selfie of Bitty with a coffee nearly as big as his head* Morning *sunshine emoji* !

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] *gif of Project Runway contestant saying, "I'm a mess right now."*

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] Good luck with finals week.

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] I hope you're ok. I'll stop texting if you tell me to. But fwiw this is kinda dickish behavior. Anyway, I hope that finals are going well for you. I'm drowning.

 

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Hey, Bittle. You're right and I'm really sorry. I should have answered you. It's not an excuse, but I didn't handle our loss very well and it took a lot of time for me to right myself afterwards. Thank you so much for continuing to reach out to me. I understand if you're over me. I'm over me too, honestly.

[SMS to Jack Z.] I'm not over you, hun. I was concerned. Are you ok now?

[SMS to Eric Bittle] You should be.

[SMS to Jack Z.] Jack. Are you ok now?

[SMS to Eric Bittle] I'm working on it. I'm going to spend some time with my therapist this summer between camps.

[SMS to Jack Z.] I'm glad you're taking care of yourself. *heart emoji*

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Thank you. <3

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] *selfie of Bitty waiting for his bags at Hartsfield-Jackson* Did you know it's hot down here?

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Haha. I've heard that. I'm in Chicago for Blackhawks camp.

[SMS to Jack Z.] Pics or it didn't happen! *wink emoji*

[SMS to Eric Bittle] *a beautifully framed picture of a random city street in Chicago*

[SMS to Jack Z.] That could be taken from the internet. Come on, show me your faceeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

[SMS to Eric Bittle] *very awkward selfie of Jack's face not smiling, but not-not smiling*

[SMS to Jack Z.] *heart eyes emoji*

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Thanks, Bittle.

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] I love the farmers market! I hope you're eating fresh summer food too!

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Ehhhh they feed us ok at these things.

[SMS to Jack Z.] A crime. Next year I'm going to start sending you food.

[SMS to Jack Z.] OH MY GOD CAN I SEND YOU FOOD NOW!?

[SMS to Eric Bittle] I'm not sure actually. I can ask? But you really don't have to do that.

[SMS to Jack Z.] Oh honey it's not "have to" it's "WANT to."

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Ok then I'll ask.

 

[SMS to Eric Bittle] You can. I'll send you the address after this scrimmage.

[SMS to Jack Z.] *dancing boys emoji**praise emoji*

[SMS to Jack Z.] Starting on jam now!

 

[SMS to Eric Bittle] I am so sore and I didn't even know that was possible anymore.

[SMS to Eric Bittle] *selfie of Jack with a jar of jam and a spoon**he's actually smiling*

[SMS to Jack Z.] omg!!!!

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] Have a good flight!

 

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Thanks, Bittle. A week in Montreal and then to New York and then two weeks in Montreal and a week in LA and then back to Montreal for the rest of the summer.

[SMS to Jack Z.]  You can do it! *strong arm emoji*

[SMS to Eric Bittle] LOL thanks.

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] Package on its way to you!

 

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Got it! Papa ate a lot of the cookies before Maman could try them so she says we're going to send you a package of real syrup.

[SMS to Jack Z.] I can't wait!!!

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] Got your package! It's so big! Thank you!!!

[SMS to Jack Z.] *a full body picture of Bitty in shorts and tank that are 90% covered by an apron with a maple leaf on it, wearing a maple leaf oven mitt on each hand, and surrounded by a table of maple syrup*

[SMS to Eric Bittle] *thumb up emoji*

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] OH MY GOD. WE CAN'T BE FRIENDS ANYMORE. GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD. IT'S OVER.

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Morning, Bittle. What's going on?

[SMS to Jack Z.] MY MAMA HAD/HAS A CRUSH ON YOUR DADDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Haha. That's pretty common. So... I'm denying your request to end our friendship. Sorry.

[SMS to Jack Z.] OH MY GOD.

 

[SMS to Eric Bittle] *selfie of Jack all sweaty but looking totally euphoric* Had a great scrimmage today!! *three top hat emojis*

[SMS to Jack Z.] Congrats! I knew you'd do great!

 

[SMS to Jack Z.] I'm coming back North a week early to get settled in my NEW apt. Will you be around?

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Yeah. As captain I need to be back early to welcome everyone and talk to coaches and stuff.

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Want help settling?

[SMS to Jack Z.] Yes! It'd be great to see you again too! I can't believe how much we talk and I haven't seen you since the last time we played Samwell.

[SMS to Eric Bittle] Crazy, haha.

Shit. He was going to see Bittle. One on one. No party, no alcohol. Just them. Over the safety of text Jack felt that they'd built up a friendship. What if seeing him and experiencing all his awkwardness in person killed it? Or worse, what if Bittle flirted with him in person too and he flirted back? Actually, no, scratch that. What if Bittle didn't flirt with him in person and therefore he couldn't flirt back? Because at this point Jack had accepted that he liked Eric in a far more than friendly way.

_/\\_

Jack's palms began to sweat as he got closer to New Haven. He took turns taking them off the wheel of his rented Prius to wipe them on his jeans. In the back seat sat his gym bag and a large plastic pie carrier. Yesterday, as he'd struggled to roll out the dough and then cut and weave a lattice he'd been so glad to have the Haus to himself so no one could chirp his efforts.

Approaching his destination a notification popped up on his screen,

[SMS from Eric Bittle] Park in the guest sport out front, we can find street parking later! I can't wait to see you! Get ready to lift some heavy boxes! *strong arm emoji*

Jack smiled and let a long breath whoosh out. Bittle was his friend and just because they'd only met in person twice didn't invalidate that. It also didn't invalidate anything beyond friendship that might develop either. He wiped his palms on his jeans again.

More than friends.

Jack knew he wasn't very good at reading others. Usually he relied on people like Shitty or before Shitty, Kent, to read them and he simply followed their lead. But he didn’t feel like he was just projecting when he thought that Eric liked him as more than a friend too.

"In 200 feet your destination is on the left,"  said his GPS, breaking up his thoughts.

As instructed he parked in the guest spot and turn the car off. Jack closed his eyes and let his head fall against the headrest. It was going to be ok. It might even turn out better than ok.

Knuckles rapping on his window jolted him out of his thoughts and he sat up ready to apologize for he didn't know what. Bitt stood outside the car with a huge smile.

"Tired, sugar?" he laughed, "Better not be 'cause you're my muscle today."

Even as his heart thumped, Jack matched Bitty's smile. He got out of the car and stretched, definitely not imagining Bitty's eyes following the hem of his shirt as it rode up.

"I see how it is, you think I'm just muscle to boss around. You know you've got pretty impressive muscles yourself, eh?"

Bittle blushed and Jack wished he could take a picture without being a creep. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them in check.

"So euh, how're you?"

"Great!"

Bitty bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, bursting with energy and unable to stand still.

"Gosh you're taller then I remember," he said as his blush deepened, "Sorry. It's just weird that you're here. But! In a good way! Sorry. Sorry," he trailed off.

"I'm nervous too," admitted Jack.  

"It's dumb, right?"

Bitty scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck, self-conscious.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, "But at least we're dumb together."

He smiled softly and felt a thrill when Bitty did too.

"Oh, hey! I brought you a present!"

"You did!? Well don't give it to me now! Good lord, what am I doing keeping you out here instead of inviting you in. My mama raised me better than this!"

They scuffled over who would carry the duffel bag and Jack only gave up when he remembered that he'd wanted the pie to be a secret. He let Bitty take the bag so he could keep the carrier out of view as they went inside.

Piles of boxes nearly blocked their way into Eric's studio apartment, but with Jack's bag on his head he deftly weaved through small gaps between them. Jack tried his best to follow. Perhaps inevitably, his butt knocked one over. Before he could apologize though Bitty waved him off, pointing to the thick black sharpie that spelled out CLOTHES scrawled across the side.

He made it through the wall of boxes and breathed out, "Oh thank god, I would have died if that had been glass."

Bitty laughed and dropped lightly onto the floor.

"Nope! That's all against the wall."

He glanced over and gaped at the number of boxes surrounding him, "Euh, Bittle... Those are all for the kitchen?"

"Yep! You know I take my baking seriously!"

"I didn't realize taking it seriously meant having so much stuff? What's even in all of them?"

"Well you're gonna find out soon enough, mister."

"Lucky me."

Bitty just laughed again.

"Now I believe you said something about a present?"

"Oh yeah, well euh, you have to promise to like it even though I'm pretty sure it's not very good?"

"Jack, stop being silly, get on the floor, and show me what's behind your back."

He ducked his head as he presented Bitty with the pie carrier before joining him and stretching out on the hardwood.

"The carrier is a gift too since I thought maybe you wouldn't have one," he glanced again at the tower of boxes.

"I don't," reassured Bitty.

"But there's something inside it too."

"Oh yeah? Something for me?"

Jack's face felt hot and he hoped that the blush didn't show on his cheeks. He nodded and held it out again. The heat intensified and traveled down his arms when Eric's fingers brushed his as he handed it off. He breathed with deliberate calm while Bittle unhooked and lifted the lid.

"Oh!"

Eric blinked heavily at the imperfect pie nestled inside and Jack felt intensely aware of its every fault.

"You made me a pie!"

"I did. Euh, it's apple because my research said it would be the hardest for me mess up as a beginner."

"Where are my plates?"

Reverently, Bitty set the pie on the ground and beckoned Jack over to help him look.

"They all need to get opened eventually,' he said brightly as he ripped into the nearest box to search for plates and knives.

With the basics located, they settled with their backs against the wall and the late morning sun in their faces. Nervous, Jack waited for Eric to take his first bite.

"It's my first try at baking so..."

"Honey, it's wonderful." Bitty reassured him, "The apples are perfectly soft."

"I probably shouldn't have tried to do a lattice..."

Bitty cut him off, "Wonderful, Jack. It's just wonderful. Thank you. This was just so sweet of you."

There was no way his blush wasn't visible now.

"You're welcome."

They sat quietly until they'd eaten half the pie.

"That was exactly what I needed," declared Bitty after he'd all but licked his plate clean, "Thank you."

Jack smiled shyly and changed the subject, "Ready to unpack?"

"Urg," he groaned, "Do we have to?"

He hopped up and offered his hand to pull Bittle up too.

"Come on," he wheedled, wiggling his fingers, "You know you want to boss me around."

Eric pushed as Jack pulled and he ended up crushed to Jack's chest. He looked up, his breath stilled, and found Jack staring back. They lingered neither able to risk breaking the silence with a declaration.

Sure he'd flirted plenty with Jack over text, but Bitty'd never felt quite sure if Jack was flirting back. Confident they'd become friends he worried about pushing too hard or too fast. So he stood in Jack's arms and tried to memorize the feeling of Jack's hands on his hips in case it never happened again.

More predictably, having Bittle in his arms froze Jack's brain and stopped him from saying anything. After an awkward amount of time he dropped his arms, but didn't step back. Still without speaking he brushed a crumb from the side of Bitty's mouth and offered a shy smile.

"Oh..."

Though nervous, Jack didn't let the smile fade. He stroked the skin again just because he wanted to before offering a very quiet, "Something to, euh, think about. No pressure, eh."

Bittle blinked at him without replying and so finally he stepped back and began to survey the boxes spread out. Before he could put his turn fully from the smaller man, Eric grabbed at his hand and tugged him back so they again stood face to face.

He took a deep breath and reached out to a grasp Jack's wrist.

"What if I don't want to think about it?" he asked boldly.

Having acted on instinct, Jack hadn't prepared for a response. His breath stuttered and he ineffectually opened and closed his mouth.

Eventually he managed, "That might be nice?"

He cringed and Eric hid a laugh with his free hand. Standing on tiptoes he pressed a gentle kiss to Jack's cheek.

"Good to know."

Bittle lingered, maintaining eye contact, and enjoying the closeness between them. Finally he pulled away and glanced at the mess around them. Jack took a deep breath to steady himself and looked around too.

"Want to get to work?"

Bitty smiled and nodded, "I was going to suggest we start in the kitchen, but maybe setting up the, um, bed first might be smarter?"

"We could split up?" Jack tried to ignore the way his heart tried to beat out of his chest at the mention of a bed, "We'll cover twice the ground that way, eh? I see a mattress do you have a frame?"

The blond pointed to a compact Ikea box and frowned. "And that box is a sofa," he said, pointing to a second, "And that one is a table and those two are chairs," he continued. "There's a dresser in a box somewhere around here too."

"Looks like that's my job then. Why don't you start on the non-Ikea boxes?"

"Are you sure? That's a lot of building..."

"Yeah, I mean that's pretty much why I'm here, eh?"

"Thank you."

Bitty darted forward to kiss Jack's other cheek before darting away to compose himself and set up his kitchen. They worked in silence until Bitty unearthed his Bluetooth speakers and then Jack found himself surrounded by music as infectiously upbeat as Bitty himself.

Soon enough he found that a surefire way to make Eric laugh was to guess that Taylor Swift sang each new song. Delighted by his success he felt confident enough to pull Eric in for a proper kiss the next time he passed by where Jack fought with the sofa frame.

"Oh..." sighed Bittle as he pulled away. Slow to open his eyes, he connected with Jack's just in time for the dark haired man to ask, "Was it nice for you too?"

Bitty collapsed, giggling into Jack's chest. Pulling away he stood on tiptoe for a second kiss before they broke apart to continue with their work. With remarkably little awkwardness they turned to their respective tasks; Jack finished putting together the bed and then the kitchen table before turning to the dresser. As he built the drawers Bitty filled them. Side by side they slotted the frame together and popped each in.

"Let's take a break before we finish?" Eric suggested.

Jack looked around at the boxes and unbuilt sofa and hesitated, "I don't know, we're nearly finished at this point, eh?"

His hesitation melted at Bitty's pout.

"Just a little break then."

"Of course," Bitty promised with his sweetest smile.

"And then we go back to work."

"Mmmhmm."

"Because we can finish so quickly if we just get to it, eh."

"Yep!"

Bitty glanced meaningfully at the newly put together and dressed bed. He edged over to it and waited for Jack to follow.

Jack tripped on an empty box in his haste to join Eric and he pulled up a little short with a blush rising on his cheeks. Bitty simply ignored his clumsiness and grabbed his hand to pull him the final inches forward. Their lips met hesitant at first, and then easily as they adjusted to one another’s presence.  

They kissed for a surprisingly long time before either was courageous enough to dip a hand under the other’s shirt. And even that didn’t trigger the kind of mad rush to shed clothing that they’d imagined or seen so many times in the movies. Jack and Bitty continued on at their own pace, stopping their kisses every so often to breathe and look at each other; to marvel in the wonderfulness that they both felt bubbling up from inside their skin.

Eventually, they did find their way, naked, under the starchy sheets of Eric’s bed. Even though they were both aroused, Jack still paused to check in.

“Do you want anything from me?” he asked softly.

Bitty licked at his collarbones while he thought.

“I don’t really know where my lube is,” he admitted, “And I don’t have condoms… so maybe just hands?”

“Together?”

“Yes, perfect.”

Carefully, Jack lowered the sheets from where Bittle had pulled them up over his shoulders so he could watch where his fingers went. Gently, he ran them over Eric’s cock wanting to feel it and map its ridges and dips. He nearly let closed his fist unpleasantly tight in surprise as Eric moved to do the same, causing the smaller man to giggle into his neck. In the past such a telling reaction might embarrassed Jack. Eric’s laughter didn’t make him feel badly though, he just huffed out his own amused breath and continued on with his exploration.

Their touches gained purpose the longer they lay next to one another. With only spit for lubrication, it felt rougher than ideal. Neither man let the lack of perfection ruin the feeling. Sooner than Eric wanted, yet longer than Jack thought their first time would last, they were racing each other to completion.

Bitty came first. Semen ran between Jack’s fingers making his final strokes smooth, if a little sticky. When Eric spread his own come onto Jack’s cock, the larger man groaned deeply and lunged forward for a kiss. He came with his lips sealed to Bitty’s, his whole body going taut before relaxing.

A haze of quiet fell over the couple who stayed close until the discomfort of tacky come pushed them to get up and wash off side by side in Bittle’s cramped bathroom.

“Do you… um.”

Bitty paused and surveyed the main room as they stepped back into it. Half the boxes still needed unpacking and the box that contained his couch still sat unopened.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Bitty asked, a little unsure.

Jack had frozen when Bitty had stopped. He laughed in relief at the full question.

“Crisse. I thought you were going to ask if I wanted to finish unpacking. Yes, Bittle, I want to stay the night.”

Eric looked horrified at the idea of doing anything other than getting back into bed.

“God, no. No more unpacking, please.”

“Glad we’re on the same page there too.”

“Too?”

“Sure, there and staying the night, eh? That’s two pages.”

“It is,” Bitty popped onto his tiptoes to kiss Jack. “Tomorrow can we talk about adding a third page?”

“I want a relationship with you,” Jack said bluntly, anticipating the next question correctly.

“Oh. Ok. That’s three pages done.”

“Swawesome. I love to read.”

“Swawesome?”

“It’s a Samwell thing. Super and awesome equals swawesome.”

Bitty laughed and got back into the bed, rolling onto his stomach and looking over at Jack as he got settled.

“Weirdo.”

Jack kissed the tip of Eric’s nose.

“You like me.”

“I do.”

“I was right. It is a nice thing.”

“Very nice. Goodnight, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Night, bud.”


End file.
